It's very cool that there are still a few untouched places on the planet. This story reminded me of the movie "The Gods Must Be Crazy." Let's hope those tribes remain untouched by our "superior" technology forever._____

If you're planning a trip to Chicago any time in the future, you might want to stop over here first. A visual guide to the Windy City's greasiest and greatest. I've noshed at several of the places listed, and can assure you the ratings are pretty accurate.

When I was growing up and attending this small church in the burbs, one of our member families had an older daughter who was legally blind and profoundly mentally retarded. Diana loved church, and was delightfully outgoing.

The thing she loved the best about church services was the music, and she'd shriek her delight and sing along, far, far out of tune, at the top of her lungs. When a hymn or choral piece was over, she'd clap her hands in glee.

Was she a disturbance? Yep. Did a single one of us care? Nope... because when Diana was noisy in church, it was a JOYFUL noise. When Diana was happy to see you (and she always was), it always involved rushing up for a hearty hug and sloppy kiss.

This, on the other hand, is a travesty. In a world that was fair and just, those three women and every DCF caseworker responsible for handling his case would receive the same treatment poor Jaylen did.

This post about bezoars brought to mind a tale my (former, and could be again if she'd just suck it up and apologize) sister told from back in the day when she worked at a Big Eight accounting firm (yes, a million years ago) in their medical/hospital practice.

Seems as she was auditing medical records she came across one describing a young child who was brought in to the ER for severe stomach pains. X-rays showed a mass the size of a softball in her stomach, and she was immediately sent for surgery.

Of course, the doctor's and parents' first fear was that it might be cancerous.

When the doc emerged from surgery, he calmed the parents down by explaining that it was, indeed, not cancer. It was, however, a head-scratcher.

What they found was a bezoar comprised entirely of synthetic hair.

Mama did a Bou *blink* *blinketty-blink* *blink* and said, "Oh. That explains it."

Doc said, "Oh, that explains what?"

Apparently the child had over 20 bald Barbies in her toy box. Mama never saw her chewing on the hair... but neither did she ever find any of the hair around the house.

The origin of the well-fed, declawed black cat remained a mystery, but authorities said it did not appear to have been living in the wild.

These are not pets, people. And, if you made the mistake of thinking that cute little kitten wouldn't grow up to be too much big cat to handle, there are places you can turn to. Whoever turned that cat loose should've been shot, instead of the animal._____

It is well know that I have no sympathy whatsoever for Drew Peterson, but this is just wrong. I'm much happier when he's not getting media attention, m'kay?_____

Why in the world would anyone want to store all their medical data on Google Health? Sure, they've got a Privacy Policy... but not even HIPPA restrictions are easy to bring under compliance, and I don't see anything that states that Google Health is required to maintain these records under HIPPA law. This seems to me to be just dangling really stinky, juicy bait under the nose of a hoard of knuckle-cracking hackers.

Call me nuts, but you may as well just plaster your medical records in your living room window and be done with it._____

Geeze! Ken Lammers is waiving temptation under my nose. He must have heard I'm hard up for a date lately..._____

If you are one of the 80+% discussed here, stop it, please! That cabbie who hit me? Yes -- he was on his cell phone. Talking on a cell phone, whether holding it up to the side of your head or talking hands-free, is the most distracting thing you can do while driving.

If you absolutely have to yap on the damned thing, pull over and put it in park, m'kay?

(I woke up at 2:00 a.m. and it took me two hours to get back to sleep. Good radio show. Great tips on new musicians, old musicians and every kind of musician in between. Give a listen to their podcasts here.)_____

... that I've got my new specs from Zenni Optical. $35 including frames, lenses, polarized clip-on sunnies and postage and handling. No more losing expensive glasses for me. In fact, I could buy another cool pair from Zenni every other week for a year and still not spend what those gougers at Lenscrafters stuck me for. Yes, it took about two weeks. But for pennies on the dollar, it was well worth the wait!

Drinking styleLeo likes to drink and dance — they’re often fabulous dancers, and usually pretty good drinkers as well, losing their commanding dignity and turning kittenish. Of course, they’re quite aware they’re darling — Leos will be Leos, after all. They generally know their limit, probably because they loathe losing self-control. When they get over-refreshed, expect flirting to ensue — and perhaps not with the one what brung them. But Leo’s not the type to break rules even when drunk, so just try to ignore it (try harder, Cancer) and expect a sheepish (and hung over) Lion to make it up to you the next day.

Trademark cocktailsLeos like flashy drinks, be they complicated tropical concoctions festooned with umbrellas, like a Bahama mama or the more common strawberry daiquiri or mai tai. Indeed, they often have a taste for the fruity — try a screwdriver, or add an extra cherry to the next Manhattan. Their sense of drama lends itself to a kir royale, of course.

Gadzooks. Paragraph 1 is absolutely bang-on. Paragraph 2 is so far from my style that it's hilarious. Paragraph 3? Gag me. Not even if they were paying. (And every Blown-Eyed and Blown-Starred blodger who knows me is rolling on the floor in glee at the thought.)_____

This had me spewing all over the monitor. Took a full roll of paper towels to clean up the mess.

Have you ever dated a divorced man or woman? If so, what were the issues? Did it work out or not? If you are a divorced man or woman, do you have any better, less sexist advice? Read the column and let me know.

Even more fascinating is the fact that, as of this writing, ALL of her repondents are men, and none of them are bashing divorced women on the subject. Their experiences and critiques are spot-on.

Since I'm divorced myself and have dated divorced men (and we all know how much I love dating), and since, many moons ago, I worked for a family law attorney, this is a subject near and dear to my heart.

Yep. She's correct about the sexist nonsense handed out in the self-help books she cites. I have a much more practical approach to dating a divorced guy, and would expect that men should pretty much take the same approach in dating divorced women:

Make sure he's really divorced. It should come as no surprise that many married people (men and women) troll the personal ads, bar scenes and online dating services looking for a little nookie on the side. Google his name. Dig a little deeper if you're not sure. Why? A good friend of mine met a guy while we were out when I was up visiting recently. The guy claimed he was divorced, but something didn't smell right. So she did a little noodling around the net. Surprise, suprise, surprise. Sadly, this happens all the time.

Forewarned is forearmed.

So he's told you up front that he's in the process of a divorce. How far along in the process is he? See 1. above. If he (or she) is just entering the process, it is simply not a good time to get involved. Divorce is a soul-sapping experience, even if you're doing it no fault and/or going through a mediator. I purposely didn't even re-enter the dating market until a year after my divorce was final because I didn't want to be hauling any heavy, unwieldy baggage along with me. I wanted to be able to enter a new relationship with an open heart, not a heavy one.

Was he the dumper or the dumpee? In my experience, both professional and personal, the dumpee (again, man or woman) takes a LOT longer to get over a divorce than the dumper. I don't date depressed people or angry people. That person should seek professional help and get himself into a good place before he get backs on that dating horse. My idea of a good time is not to play therapist to my date. Someone who's done the heavy lifting to get himself into a better place personally, however, is mighty attractive to me.

How cordial is his relationship with his ex? This is especially important if there are children involved. Personally, I don't want any guy I date to be so close with his ex that it makes me uncomfortable (I had that happen once, and wouldn't tolerate it ever again) on the one hand. On the other, I really, really, really don't want to hear what a bitch the ex is, or to be held accountable for all her sins. I won't hold you responsible for my ex's failures, either.

His kids? If he has kids, I don't want to be with a guy who doesn't take care of his responsibilities to them -- financial, emotional, or otherwise. That's a walk away fast deal-breaker to me.

I do, however, have a problem with guys who go too far in the opposite direction, either. Guilt-ridden guys who cave in to their kids are just not attractive. Work your guilt out and be a good parent, okay? That's attractive.

Bonus points for a guy who gets along well with his ex when it comes to making parenting decisions.

BTW -- Don't yank me into a relationship with your kids until and unless we're dating exclusively and have a good idea that our relationship has some really long legs. I refuse to be the the bad guy to the kids and/or have my own heart broken if our relationship doesn't work and I've fallen head over heels for your kids. Not fair to them. Not fair to me.

He has kids, is acting responsibly (or trying to) towards them, but has the ex from Hell? This is where you really need to ask yourself just how much you're willing to tolerate in a relationship. If he's the greatest guy in the world in every other way, then you could choose to embrace the suck and stick with him. No whining or crying about it later. You knew it was there in the first place.

If that kind of conflict is just not your cup of tea, walk away, and do it sooner rather than later. Be honest with him and tell him that you just can't handle those kind of outside forces in a relationship. Wish him well and hope that he finds someone who can.

Believe it when he tells you what he wants. When I was doing the personal ads, I was amazed at just how many people paid no attention to what I said I wanted in terms of age, religious background, height, weight or ethnicity. Much the same as I really do know what I want, when a guy who sounds great in every other says he's looking for a 20 year-old with a bangin' bod, he really means it. Or if he's looking for companionship, but not a long term relationship. Yep. He means that, too. Don't even go there.

Know what you want from a relationship, too. Don't want to carry someone emotionally all the time? Don't do it. Don't want to carry someone financially? Don't do that, either. Want someone who'll meet you halfway? Don't settle for less. There are too many other wonderful folks out there.

Don't limit yourself. Much as the personals didn't work out for me, I do have friends who met and married through them. Do whatever feels right for you in terms of how you go about meeting people.

Never just toss a good fish back into the pond because he's not the right fish for you. If he's a good guy but not a good fit, who do you know that might be a good match? I have another set of friends where the guy met Friend No. 1 through the personals but didn't have any chemistry. Friend No. 1 thought he was a great guy, would make a great friend, and had Friend No. 2 with whom she felt he'd be a great match. Introductions were made and Great Guy and Friend No. 2 have been married for years now. Friend No. 1 is still great friends with both.

Deal from a position of honesty. Expect it in return. Really listen to what the other person is telling you. Listen as much to what your head is telling you as what your heart is telling you. Assume we're all grownups here.

The tickets are booked. The Princess Mom and I are flying back from Charleston, SC instead of parking our carcasses (because you do feel like dead meat after a few hours) in another motor coach for the 13+ hour trek back to Sarasota. We've emailed the travel agent the happy news. (God, I wouldn't want to be in his shoes the next time he hears from TPM. It ain't going to be pretty.)

You have no idea what a relief this is.

As an added bonus, because of the only available flight timing we'll actually be able to ditch our luggage and take a tour of Charleston, rather than just passing through. Given the bits we saw of it on our way to the ship, that's really going to be a treat.

The ride from the motel to Charleston was the very best part of the whole uncomfortable journey. Low Country is breathtaking. If my ass was aching, at least my eyes were feasting and happy. (And I'm going to have to find my way to blogmeets in both Charleston and Savannah. Both stunningly beautiful cities, both of which I want to spend a LOT more time exploring.)

After another round of Chinese firedrills and how many clowns can you fit into one of those tiny trick circus car routines, we were finally able to board our ship. It's a lot smaller than ones I've been on in the past, but it's also a brightly-polished gem. The food has been great so far -- a far cry from our last experience with Princess. There appear to be at least 5 cruise staff members per guest, and the scheduled events are pretty interesting.

It's an at sea day today, so we're mostly being slugs -- eating, reading and napping. This is what vacation is supposed to be all about -- truly relaxing. Ahhhhhhhhhh............

The Omnibus Driver makes for a very cranky passenger, especially when Dipsy Doodle Motor Coach Driver #1 brings along Chirpy Cathy wife for the first leg of the journey from Sarasota, FL to Savannah, GA... and the journey begins at 5:15 a.m.

At best, your humble Omnibus Driver is not a morning person. At worst, I make the Incredible Hulk look like an amiable chap in the a.m.

Throw in Chirpy Cathy, who repeatedly played with pagers, cell phones, GPS devices, coffee cups, V-8 cans and rattled through a clipboard full of papers right in my ear and DDMCD#1 who chose to simultaneously eat an Egg McMuffin, slurp from a large coffee and repeatedly turn around to consult the GPS and consult/argue with CC about directions while on the road, and it's truly a wonder there was no reporting of road rage... or anyone thrown under the bus from inside the vehicle.

Let us just say that The Princess Mom and I shared mutual thought bubbles today, mostly pondering murder and mayhem. It's true. We are melding into one person, one thought process. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Legendary Journeys has a lot to answer for. They'll only be legendary on this journey for the length of the ride (10 plus hours for TPM and I, and 12 plus hours for those poor saps that got picked up first in Naples), the ineptitude of the drivers, neither of whom had a clue in hell where they were going or how to get there in the most expeditious fashion, and the unbelievably awful dining options (McD's for breakfast, a really bad truck stop for lunch, and a shopping mall food court for dinner).

Motor Coach Driver #2 finally got us to Savannah (after many cell phone calls to more experienced driver to figure out where the hell we were and where he needed to be), we were supposed to have a tour of the city. Our behinds were so numb that we were actually looking forward to crawling out of the motor coach and onto a nice, hard trolley bench for a change of pace. No such luck. We picked up a tour guide who took us around town in the MC for another hourand a half, then they dropped us down by the waterfront for an hour of tootling around on foot.

Then back on the $#@%^%^&* MC for a trip to the hotel, which is 20 miles outside of downtown Savannah... and has no restaurant on the premises. Suggested dining? See shopping mall above.

Let's just say that today was so bad that before I started this post The Princess Mom had me checking into options to fly back to Sarasota next Saturday. Cost, unfortunately, is prohibitive.

The cruise had better be good, or the poor sap at the travel agency that recommended it to the Princess Mom may not live to tell the tale.